


Modern Day Disciples

by bug_from_space



Series: Requiem for the Dreamer (Poetry) [8]
Category: Christian Bible, Original Work
Genre: F/F, Gen, M/M, Past Lives, Poetry, Rebirth, Religion, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 01:45:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18436472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bug_from_space/pseuds/bug_from_space
Summary: Have I ever told you about...?





	Modern Day Disciples

My old friends addiction to  
Drug store makeup worth a handful of dimes  
And how he was so broken  
And desperate for a bit of self knowledge  
That he drowned himself in dollar beer  
I doubt I'll ever see another boy like him  
Made up of wisps of summer glass  
Who threw himself against the shore

Some part of me thinks he's an angel  
(Heaven sent and earth broken)  
One of those modern ones with  
Wings that he auctioned off for spare change  
Too ethereal to hide himself  
But no longer holy enough to deserve the freedom

Or the girl who's name is  
A song of victory  
But I don't think she's won anything  
In a long long time  
Since before her good luck charm  
Vanished somewhere between then and now or  
Maybe it was in the gap between now and finding her  
found family scattered to the winds  
(Truth be told I'm not sure if she's ever won anything.)

Heaven knows I think she's God  
She bleeds divinity in her words  
And illustrations of creation  
Her kindness and cruelty always matched  
Each other in equal measure  
And I was drawn to her before I loved her (and after, even after)

My best friend with her soft smiles  
Who always finds herself hurt by  
Someone with the worst intentions  
And how she bled kindness in  
Everything she did even when it  
Hurt to do it because she was  
Good- better than I'll ever be  
And she tells me it's not true  
Her hands are covered in flour  
And I think sometimes when I catch  
Her from the corner of my eye  
That I love this girl

This Jesus- this messiah reborn  
Because that must be who she is  
She's too kind and too human  
To be anything but the second coming  
I've watched her sacrifice herself for  
The people she loves  
(I can't believe I'm one of them)  
She shines through the cracks and I know  
She must be the saviour of a people

And then there’s the girl— a sister  
Who I grew up with when there was  
No one else around, it was between  
Her finding me in the snow and now  
That she stopped being a friend  
And became a sister, and here we are  
And I’m watching her throw away  
Everything because her dreams never coincided with reality  
I love her dearly but I’m never not terrified

She’s the disciples in a single person  
An artist, a lover, a sister, a person of untold magnitudes  
Enough pieces to assemble an army  
And important enough to ripple an ocean  
She’s always been vital to me

My brother by choice never blood  
That’s spent the years  
As my strongest support  
Even when we were drowning under  
The weight of a thousand untold truths  
How he gives his heart to every pretty boy  
That turns out to be cruel when rumours explode  
But never gives up or betrays anyone

In this imperfect recreation of His-Her coming  
He’d been Mary Magdalene in every incarnation  
Loyal and good and brave  
(Everything I’ve never been but  
Tried to be once years ago- millennia ago)

Worse was the closest thing I had  
To a mirror image of myself  
But he was too angry, and never quite  
Close enough to either heaven or hell  
Loving him and losing him was akin  
To a suicide of ideas (and of myself)  
Even though it was his fault it all went wrong  
History blames me and I think I do too

He takes a thousand name:  
Devil, Lucifer, Satan, Morningstar, Serpent  
Forever tied with all of us but flickering  
Like he’ll vanish from here at any moment  
Angrier for the loss of even more divinity

And then there’s me  
The odd one out that loves them all  
The storyteller-poet-betrayer  
(Between the three of them, what difference was there?)  
And I’ll never kiss this Jesus because  
My touch has always been my ruin  
And I loved him last time and lost him  
If I did it twice I would double every sin

My name is already synonymous  
With greed and mistake and betrayal  
But never love, the stories never say  
Judas loves Jesus only betrayed  
Two millennia hasn’t shifted my self preservation  
Or my want for silver coins (just their appearance).


End file.
